My bowel isn’t irritable
It’s just excitable
I don’t have a syndrome
Just some symptoms
They’re not very pleasant
And they didn’t get better
When my GP said
‘It’s a dustbin diagnosis’

‘All the tests are negative’
‘So I’m making it up?’
‘I didn’t say that’
‘You implied it.’
‘There’s nothing to remove
You’re not going to die
But we don’t know the cause
‘So there isn’t a cure?’

‘We use to call it spastic colon’
‘Thanks’
‘And dysfunctional gut’
‘And in English?’
‘Your bowel looks normal
‘It doesn’t work normal’
‘How many times a day?’
‘Five, with a morning rush.’

‘Pellets?’
‘Ribbons’
‘Yellow?’
‘Light brown.’
‘Wind?’
‘Plenty. And bloating and pain.’
‘But no blood?’
‘Never.’

‘Your bowel is overactive’
‘Like a toddler?’
‘If you like.’
‘Should I smack it?’
‘No. Just avoid the usual.’
‘Such as?’
‘Stress, fags and alcohol. Possibly food.’

‘All food?’
‘Anything that makes it worse.’
‘How would I know?’
‘Cut it out, see what happens.’
‘Are you sure you’re not a surgeon?’
‘Loperamide for diarrhoea, mebeverine for spasm.’
‘What about cognitive behavioural therapy?’
‘Just the job. But your six minutes are up.’

Poem by Dr Phil Hammond author of Medicine Balls...click here for details.

© Health Press 2008